


Upheaval

by pinstripedJackalope



Series: As Above, So Below—As Before, Once Again [2]
Category: The Infernal Devices Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Bisexual Will Herondale, F/M, God tessa is still like.... sixteen isn't she?, How Do I Tag, Magic, Minor Character Death, Multi, Polyamory, Portals, Pregnancy, Teen Pregnancy, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Unplanned Pregnancy, because the series has yet to come out, hm, i'm going to change it to be canon compliant as soon as i know what canon is, imma be real with you i'm fudging a lot of the events in the middle here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-01-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:48:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22398082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinstripedJackalope/pseuds/pinstripedJackalope
Summary: There are things that you want but you can't have.  Tessa undersands that Jem is out of reach as a silent brother, gone from her life but for one hour a year.  Will, on the other hand... she always thought she'd have Will.  At least until he reached the end of his life and she lived on beyond him, anyway.  She thought that was how her life was destined to go--to love two men, and to have one, until he was taken away again.And then Will disappears, vanishes off the face of the earth without a trace, only to turn up a hundred and thirty years later, hale and healthy and just in time to meet up with Jem once again.  Will, it turns out, had taken destiny by the throat--and, in doing so, changed the trajectory of their lives.
Relationships: Jem Carstairs/Tessa Gray, Jem Carstairs/Tessa Gray/Will Herondale, Tessa Gray/Will Herondale
Series: As Above, So Below—As Before, Once Again [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1588069
Comments: 7
Kudos: 45





	1. The Maelstrom

**Author's Note:**

> I mentioned it in the tags BUT this story depends a lot on the canon of books that haven't yet come out. I'll adjust the story once we know more about the canon adventures of James and Lucie Herondale.

_In my true form I am deadly glory_. 

Tessa stroked a finger down the side of her clockwork angel, the very same angel that had saved the life of her and everyone she loved. It was sitting on her bedside table, her only visitor at the moment, silent and motionless. It’s visage was singed nearly completely black. Black as obsidian. Black as night. 

Heavenly fire, she’s learned, could do that. 

She’s also learned that she was unconscious for several days before Jem came to talk to her. He had only just left, but she felt as if she'd missed him for a lifetime already. An hour with Brother Zachariah was not enough. A hundred hours wouldn’t be enough. A hundred years, a thousand—she sighed. She couldn’t dwell on it, not now. Maybe not ever. It was bound to make her cry, and after everything she’d been through she still _hated_ to cry.

“At least you still have Will,” she said aloud to herself, stern. 

“And we still have _you_ ,” said Charlotte in response, walking into the room. Tessa looked up, smiling at the small woman as she sat herself down on the chair at the bedside. Charlotte smiled back, patting Tessa’s hand. “You’ve had a hard week. I’m very glad to see you awake and responsive.”

“Me as well. I was having the most vivid nightmares…” Tessa shivered a little in her nightgown.

“It’s over now,” Charlotte soothed. “You survived. Both you and… well.”

Tessa frowned at the _look_ in Charlotte’s eye. “Charlotte? Is there something going on?”

“Now, don’t be alarmed. It’s still early yet. But Brother Enoch has informed me that you are with child.”

_With child_. It took Tessa a moment to get her mind around the words, and once she did she felt her face all but go up in flames. “Oh, Charlotte—it only just happened,” she said, her face burning. She buried it in her hands to hide the bright red blush that had taken over her cheeks. “It was at Cadair Idris. With Will. After I learned that Jem had died. Or, at least, we both thought so. Oh, lord, I cannot imagine what you must think of me, having relations with a man who was not my husband so soon after my fiancee died…”

But Charlotte shook her head. “I would never judge you, Tessa. Grief is a strange and many-fanged creature, and as such it’s no surprise that it goes digging its teeth in until you’d rather forget yourself in someone else than live with the ache any longer. I must admit that I wasn’t the picture of steadfastness myself when my parents died.”

Startled, Tessa raised her head, forgetting the embarrassed flush on her cheeks. “Oh, but that cannot be true—I’ve never met someone more steadfast than you.”

“It is truth. I had only just been engaged to Henry and our marriage wasn’t to be for another month. But he comforted me, and held me, and we…” She blushed slightly, neglecting to finish the sentence. “Nothing came of it, of course, and lucky for us. We weren’t ready to be parents then. I’m glad that our first child is coming now, to be completely honest.”

Tessa hugged herself, gently touching her stomach. It didn’t feel any different, but then again it probably wouldn’t this close to conception. Like Charlotte had said, it was still very early. To imagine something that small and helpless surviving the ravaging blaze, the holy inferno… it was almost beyond comprehension.

But her angel, her clockwork angel with a sliver of Ithuriel’s form inside… it had done it. Saved her life and the life inside her. The angel’s last deed on this earth was protecting both her and her unborn child from itself, an ouroboros of heavenly fire.

And, like the ouroboros, from the beginning came the end, and the end became the beginning again, and from the ashes the phoenix rose, and the wheel of the world turned, and honestly… honestly Tessa just wanted to talk to Will, their first meeting all those months ago in the Dark House replaying in her head. She was going to miss Jem—she already did—but Jem was not her beginning. Will was. Just her, and Will, and some witty banter as they headed into the next phase of their lives, wholly unprepared for the trials and tribulations to come. 

“Charlotte…” Tessa said, and was annoyed to find that her voice wavered just slightly. 

“What can I do?” Charlotte asked immediately, reaching for Tessa’s hand.

Tessa sniffed, blinking slowly to keep the tears in their place. “Would you mind greatly if I asked you to fetch Will for me?”

“Of course not,” Charlotte said. “I’ll send Sophie into the room in the meantime—she’s been worried sick over you.”

Tessa nodded. She watched as Charlotte stood, straightening her loose dress over her belly. As Charlotte left, Sophie, who had evidently been waiting just out in the hallway, came in all in a rush. Tessa barely got out a hello before the other girl was crushing her into a hug. 

“Bless,” Sophie said into her hair. “God bless, Miss—it was such a sight, seeing you turn into that angel, and the state you were in after… just, bless. _Bless_.”

With a laugh, Tessa clutched back at Sophie, leaning over in her bed. Sophie had taken to saying ‘bless’ over and over, rocking her slowly back and forth as she did until finally Tessa managed to say, through the lump in her throat, “Stop that, or we’ll both cry and I’ll never forgive you.”

“Bless, bless,” Sophie said one last time, pressing her lips to Tessa’s hair. Then she pulled back, swiping at her eyes. “Forgive me, but you look a right mess. Let me pull a brush through that rat’s nest you call hair, won’t you?”

“Yes, please,” Tessa said, scooting forward so that Sophie could rest behind her. The older girl took the brush from the washstand and crawled right onto the bed, settling at Tessa’s back. Her fingers were quick and sure on Tessa’s hair, pulling the tangles over her shoulders so they cascaded down her back. She started humming, one of Bridget’s ghastly songs, as she began to draw the brush through Tessa’s brown hair.

It was soothing in all the right ways, sweet and gentle like the rocking motion of a boat on a wide, slow river. Tessa closed her eyes, pressing her hand again to her stomach. She wondered if the baby inside was big enough yet to feel pain. Had it felt the agony of the angelic flames scorching through her body? Could it feel Tessa relaxing against Sophie’s knees now? 

Tessa didn’t know. But she promised, silent, that she’d do everything in her power to keep this child safe and happy from here on out.

“There, you’re all nice and neat now,” Sophie said some time later. Tessa reached around, touching the plait that hung down her spine.

“It looks good,” said a voice in the doorway.

Tessa raised her head, a smile coming unbidden at the sight of Will, black hair tousled over his forehead and his blazing blue eyes focused on her and her alone. It wasn’t a bright smile, still dimmed by the thoughts of Jem and Mortmain and the casualties of the battle, but it was instinctual all the same. As Sophie excused herself, Will ducked his head just slightly, his eyes peering through his fringe.

“Tess,” he said, hesitating at her silence, and came in, half-closing the door behind him. “I—Charlotte said you wished to speak with me—”

“Will,” she said, and she knew she was too pale, and her skin was blotchy with tears, her eyes still red, but it didn’t matter, because it was Will, and she put her hands out, and he came immediately and took them, closing them in his own warm, scarred fingers.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, his eyes searching her face. “I must speak with you, but I do not wish to burden you until you are in full health again.”

“I am well,” she said, returning the pressure of his fingers with her own. “Seeing Jem has eased my mind. Did it ease yours?”

His eyes darted away from hers, though his grip on her hands did not slacken. “It did,” he said, “and it did not.”

“Your mind was eased,” she said, “but not your heart.”

“Yes,” he said. “Yes. That is exactly it. You know me so well, Tess.” He gave a rueful smile. “He is alive, and for that I am grateful. But he has chosen a path of great loneliness. The Brotherhood—they eat alone, and walk alone, rise alone and face the night alone. I would spare him that if I could.”

“You have spared him everything you could spare him,” Tessa said quietly. “As he spared you, and we all tried so hard to spare one another. In the end we must all make our own choices.”

“Our own choices…” Will echoed quietly. For the first time since entering the room, his eyes drifted away from her, a far away look ghosting across his visage. He looked, for an instant, to be somewhere immeasurably far away.

“What is it, Will?” Tessa asked, clutching tighter to his hands as if that could bring him back from wherever he had gone in that split instant.

Will shook his head. “Jem, he… asked me to be happy. But I don’t know how to do that without him. I don’t know if I even want to _be_ happy without him. I feel as if I am grieving, though for something that hasn’t yet gone.”

“It is still an ending,” Tessa whispered. “Even if Jem lives on, he is not the same. Grieve. We both shall. Grieve, but do not blame yourself, for in this you bear no responsibility.”

He glanced down at their joined hands. Very gently he stroked the tops of her knuckles with his thumbs. “Perhaps not,” he said. “But there are other things I do bear responsibility for.”

Tessa took a quick, shallow breath. His voice had lowered, and there was a roughness to it she had not heard since—

_his breath soft and hot against her skin until she was breathing just as hard, her hands smoothing up and over his shoulders, his arms, his sides_ _…_

She blinked hastily and withdrew her hands from his. She was not looking at him now but seeing the firelight against the walls of the cave, and hearing his voice in her ear, and it had all seemed like a dream at the time, moments drawn out of real life, as if they were taking place in some other world. Even now she could barely believe that it had happened at all.

But it had. It _had_ happened. The evidence was inside her at this very moment, growing hour by hour, moment by moment. Did he know this? Had he realized now what consequences their actions had?

“Tessa?” His voice was hesitant, his hands still outstretched. A part of her wanted to take them, to draw him down beside her and kiss him, to forget herself in Will as she had before. For he was as effective as any drug.

And then she remembered Will’s own clouded eyes in the opium den, the dreams of happiness that crashed into ruins the moment the effects of the smoke wore away. No. Some things could be managed only by facing them. She took a breath, and looked up at Will.

“I know what you would say,” she said. “You are thinking of what happened between us in Cadair Idris, because we thought Jem was dead, and that we, too, would die. You are an honorable man, Will, and you know what you must do now. You must offer me marriage.”

Will, who had been very still, proved that he could still surprise her, and laughed. It was a soft laugh, and rueful. “I did not expect you to be so forthright, but I suppose I should have. I know my Tessa.”

“I am your Tessa,” she said. “But, Will. I do not want you to speak now. Not of marriage, of lifelong promises—”

He sat down on the edge of the bed. He was in training gear, the loose shirt pushed up around his elbows, the throat open, and she could see the healing scars of the battle on his skin, the white remembrance of healing runes. She could see the beginning of hurt, too, in his eyes. “You regret what happened between us?”

“Can one regret a thing that, however unwise, was beautiful? That resulted in something even more so?” she said, and the hurt in his eyes softened into confusion. He didn’t know, he couldn’t know—the knowledge of the child within her was hers and hers alone. He was overwhelmed, entangled in grief and despair and relief and happiness and confusion. She couldn’t admit that she was with child just yet. Not until some of the jagged edges within him had been smoothed away again by the sands of time.

And yet, even without the knowledge of the child within her, he stood steady, his eyes on her. “Tessa. If you are afraid that I feel reluctant, obligated—”

“No.” She put up her hands. Then she set them down in her lap, resisting the urge to again press against her belly. It wasn’t obligation, not yet—the moment she mentioned her condition it would, however, _become_ obligation. An obligation on top of grief and despair and relief and—god, what had their lives come to?

“…Tess?”

Tessa raised her hand to her own cheek, brushing away the tear determinately streaking down her skin. “Will, I… I am so overwhelmed. I have so many things all coursing through my head, it’s a veritable maelstrom. You aren’t faring much better. Do not tell me that you are, Will, for I can see it upon you. Neither of us is in any fit state to make decisions.”

For a moment he hesitated. His fingers hovered over his heart, where the _parabatai_ rune had been, touching it lightly—she wondered if he was even aware he was doing it—and then he said, “You’re much wiser than I. Sometimes I fear you may be too wise, Tessa.”

And there was something in his voice that made her recall the night at de Quincy’s house, the night he’d recklessly bitten a vampire and ingested its blood. His words held a strange resistance in them, as if his talk of her wisdom was some sort of joke he was making with himself. As if he had already made a decision, and that decision was down which reckless path to turn next. The distance was back, more distant than ever—his eyes could have been oceans away.

She had a thought, then. And the thought was that she needed to bind him to her, to ensure that he would not leave her side again. That she needed to tell him about the baby, and that it was _his_ , and—but that was ridiculous. She couldn’t wield this over him like some desperate girl trying to rope a lad into marriage. If… if he wanted to leave—and she wasn’t at all sure why she thought suddenly that he did—but if he did, if he wanted to leave, then she should let him go.

“Is there nothing I can do?” he said then. “To ease the maelstrom in your head? If you wish me to go, I can go.”

She did _not_ wish him to. She wished nothing more than to hold his hand and hear his voice and let him read to her until she fell asleep. But at the same time she felt the cold distance of stars growing between them, and she knew she could not keep him. 

“Go,” she said. “I can see the need in your eyes. Go, but… promise you’ll come back. That’s all I ask, Will, just… come back?”

“That was always the plan, love,” he said, and leaned forward until his lips were pressed against the tear track on her cheek. Then he pulled back and stood up and walked from the room and she knew without knowing how that he was leaving the institute and that it would be some time before he returned.

What she did not know then… and would not know until it was too late… was that it would be well over a hundred years before she saw William Herondale again.


	2. The Siege

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tessa's life without Will.

“Oh. I thought Will would be here.”

Tessa looked up at Charlotte, who had pushed the door to her room open gently and was peering inside.

“No, he… he left,” Tessa said, staring at the book that was cradled in her lap.

“Goodness gracious,” Charlotte said, stalking into the room and planting her hands on her hips, a deep frown on her face. “I know Will has had some issues dealing with his feelings in the past but I didn’t think he’d walk out once he heard the news that—”

“No, no,” Tessa said, lips quirking up at the righteous indignation in Charlotte’s voice. “Charlotte, it’s not like that. I didn’t tell him.”

The tension in Charlotte’s posture loosened, the annoyed frown becoming understanding. “Oh, Tessa…” she sighed. Then she crossed the room to Tessa’s side to pat her on the shoulder. “I know that it’s hard. If it’s any consolation, I’m sure that Will is going to be an excellent father. Or, if that’s not the way you two want to go, I’m sure Henry could be talked into raising the child alongside our own!” Charlotte said quickly, seeing the panic on Tessa’s face.

Tessa set the book down beside her, making an attempt to compose herself. “It’s not that I don’t wish to be a mother. It’s just that I’ve never had strong feelings about it one way or another. And now it’s happening whether I’m ready for it or not… after I spent so many months convinced that being born a warlock made me unable to carry a child… it’s a lot to take in.”

Charlotte nodded along, the understanding look on her face never wavering. “It _is_ a lot, especially with everything else that’s happened. I can’t imagine how hard things must be for you right now. But that’s all the more reason to tell Will, isn’t it? So that you’re not alone with this burden?”

“You’re right, you’re right. I just… he looked so far away, Charlotte. Like saying goodbye to Jem had untethered him from solid ground and he was drifting, afloat, down a river, farther and farther away.” Tessa drew her knees up toward her chest, resting one cheek on them. “I didn’t want to add to his burden.”

“I know what you mean,” Charlotte sighed. “But you can’t put it off forever.”

Tessa nodded, closing her tired eyes. “When he comes back tonight. I’ll tell him then.”

“Good. In the meantime, why don’t you let Sophie help you down to lunch? I’m sure everyone will be glad to see you up and about.”

So Tessa put her book away, got out of bed, dressed herself, and then, with a deep sense of unease, stood for a while in the window looking out on the dismal skies outside. It had begun to rain sometime in the long hours since she’d spoken to Jem and Will. Will was probably caught up in it somewhere right now. She hoped he’d had the sense to bring an umbrella with him, or at least a hat, but her gut told her that he hadn’t.

When would he be back? Would he walk in like a drowned rat come midnight, pretending to be drunk, like he had once upon a time? Would he return sooner rather than later, an apology on his tongue? Would he be out all night, wasting away in an Ifrit drug den that she’d never find without Jem’s help? She didn’t think he would… but then again, everything was different now and she didn’t know what to expect. Everything was off, like her life had been canted slightly to the left, Jem’s room now empty and her angel, black and charred, silent as the grave.

“Tessa?”

Tessa jumped, then turned to find Sophie standing in the doorway. “Oh! I’m sorry, I got caught up in my thoughts.”

Sophie smiled, her lips upturning the end of her scar. “That’s all right, it happens to the best of us.”

“Were you waiting long?”

“Not at all.” Sophie held out an elbow for Tessa to take. “Here, I’ll bring you right down. Just let me know if you feel faint at all, all right?”

With a nod, Tessa linked her elbow with Sophie’s and began the slow trek to the dining room. She’d already seen Charlotte and Sophie, of course, but she was rather looking forward to seeing Henry and all the others. Charlotte had taken the time to tell her about Henry and his wheeled chair. Tessa thought it sounded just like the Henry she knew. She was happy for him, that he now had this new challenge to set his mind to, though there was still a part of her that wished she’d had the thought and the courage to transform into Ithuriel sooner, before everyone came and was exposed to Mortmain and his mechanical monstrosities. If she had just done it _sooner_ …

But she hadn’t, and it would have to do. She would have to live with the fact that she saved _almost_ everyone. 

“Here,” Sophie said, letting go of Tessa to push open the door to the dining room. Ever since her official decision to Ascend, she’d been encouraged to dine with the rest of the institute’s inhabitants rather than the servants. With this in mind, Tessa took her by the hand and led their way inside.

They were greeted with lively chatter, and even livelier calls of, “Sophie!” and “ _Tessa_!” and “By the angel, it’s good to see you, my dear!”

Tessa felt her face melt into a smile. “It’s good to see you, too, Henry. Are you well?”

“Still getting used to things, but I’m on my feet, metaphorically speaking!” Henry said, chipper. He was sitting in his wheeled chair, a blanket covering his lap and a notebook resting on top of it, already full of sketches and scribbles. To his right sat Charlotte, at the head of the table, and to his left was Cecily. On the other side sat Gideon and Gabriel. The only person missing as Sophie and Tessa took their places was Will.

His absence did not go unnoticed. “Where’s Will?” Cecily asked, hunched down over her plate. Her dark eyes, so like her brother’s, were locked fast on Tessa. “Last time I saw him he was heading for your room.” She looked uneasy, as if she, too, had seen something not quite right in Will. 

Tessa sighed. “He’s out taking some time to himself. He’ll be back when he’s ready.”

“Hm,” was all Cecily said in response, returning her gaze to her food.

When he was ready… Tessa bit her cheek, gently turning her fork over in her hand. Saying it like that… she wasn’t sure if he’d ever be ready. And if he was never ready, would he never come back? 

But no. She had to believe that he would. He would be ready and he would come home—it was as simple as that. 

Only… he didn’t. Not that night. Nor the next morning. Nor the day after that. Nearing the end of the second day, Cecily took it upon herself to go out searching, saying all the while that _someone_ had to do it. She dragged Gabriel out with her, Gideon tagging along at his brother’s side. Tessa was just readying herself to go out, as well, when Charlotte appeared in her doorway.

“Tessa… Brother Enoch is here to give you a check-up.”

“Must he do it now?” Tessa asked, straightening up. “I was hoping to go out after Will—”

Charlotte shook her head. “Let Cecily deal with Will. There is still a chance that the baby was compromised by the heavenly fire and Brother Enoch would like to look after you both.”

“Fine.”

Tessa sat for the check-up, allowing Brother Enoch to rest his cold hand on her forehead. It was still raining outside but the silent brother’s robes were as bone dry as old paper, as if he’d never stepped outside a day in his very long, very strange life.

 _Your body is still weak from the Change,_ he said, at last, lowering his hand. _It should sustain your child, but only if you refrain from straining yourself again so soon._

Tessa grit her teeth, intending to tell him exactly how she felt about that—only to have the determination wilt a moment later. She couldn’t put the child at risk. Not like this. She’d never forgive herself if she lost the baby, not after everything. Ithuriel saved the baby’s life and hers; she owed it to the angel to protect both the lives it saved.

So she gave in. She sat with Charlotte in the study, near the fire, and waited impatiently for the others to return. She’d nearly fallen asleep in her chair by the time Cecily and the boys trudged into the room, soaked nearly to the bone.

“There’s no bloody sign of him,” Gabriel grumbled, flicking a bit of mud off his cloak. “We went all over the damn city and found neither hide nor hair of his sarcastic arse.”

“Have you checked in with Magnus? Perhaps he’s seen him,” Tessa said, still hopeful.

But Cecily shook her head. “Magnus is gone. Left London yesterday, alone. At least, according to Woolsey Scott, he did.”

“He left?”

“Yes. But he left this for you,” Cecily said, extending a sealed letter to Tessa.

Tessa took the letter, breaking the seal. Her hands lit up as the wax sparked purple with a bit of magic, the letter unfolding in her hands. It was written in purple ink, in a beautiful hand that she recognized immediately as Magnus’s. She frowned, reading through it. 

It was simple, with few embellishments—just the news that it was time for Magnus to move on. He was heading for New York, the new world. He’d taken Church, the cat, with him. No indication of his feelings one way or another about everything that had happened, no indication that he had any idea where Will had gone or even that he knew Will was missing in the first place, just a series of simple statements and, at the end:

_Do keep in touch. Us warlocks must stick together._

And then, at the very bottom of the page…

 _Don_ _’t give up faith._

_Yours,_

_Magnus_

“Well?” Cecily asked as Tessa set the letter aside. Tessa sighed, pushing the letter over. She’d hoped, before she broke the seal, that Magnus would have some answer for her about Will’s whereabouts, but of course, it wasn’t to be. No one knew where Will had gotten off to.

Days went by. Tessa watched from the windows day after day as Cecily left the Institute on her search, waiting with all the patience she could muster. Cecily was vigilant in her attempts to find her brother, but her brother wasn’t to be found. Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into a month, and still, no sign of Will. And Tessa, who had wanted to tell Will about the baby before anyone else, found herself defeated. 

She told Sophie first. The other girl didn’t help her dress every day, but she came around often enough to figure out that Tessa wasn’t wearing her corset anymore. There was no use hiding it. Then came Bridget, who had to be told as Tessa began to get sick in the afternoons, so that Tessa would be provided with enough nutrients to combat the morning sickness. And then, after that, was Gideon, who caught her throwing up and was very concerned for her health until she told him the truth. And after Gideon came everyone else, because it wasn’t as if she _wanted_ to hide. She wanted to celebrate the fact that she could, in fact, carry a child—and that one had survived the heavenly fire in Cadair Idris, a miracle atop a miracle.

And then, as one month turned into two and life had to go on, Charlotte became consul. Will was supposed to take Charlotte’s position as head of the institute, but as he was officially a missing person now, Gideon stepped up instead. Sophie’s Ascension came… and then it went… and the Enclave’s Christmas party, too, came and went… and Valentine’s Day, and the birth of the Fairchild baby, and Easter, and Aloysius Starkweather, and all the while Tessa kept looking, almost subconsciously, for a familiar head of tousled black hair and those striking blue eyes, as if Will would appear, somehow, in the middle of the crowd, as if he’d never left.

Tessa turned seventeen and her belly grew round, and soon enough the date of her delivery was upon her. She cried and screamed through the blood and sweat, wondering all the while if it would be any easier if she Changed into someone else. She could be anyone, anyone in the world, almost—certainly there was someone out there who could make the pain and the loneliness in her body and heart go away. 

“You’re doing so good, Tessa,” Charlotte said, as Tessa gasped and panted, holding her hand. Brother Enoch stood at her other side, silent as ever, and Tessa thought bitterly about how much she wished Will was here. Will or Jem, either or, just… one or the other of them, so she wouldn’t feel so _alone_.

Alas, it was not to be. They’d asked for Jem to come for the birth, but he was not allowed to leave the Silent City again until his first year of training was through. Brother Enoch would have to do. Tessa bit her lip and, as the pain crashed down, pushed again.

After fourteen hours in labor, a baby boy was born, and Tessa wept softly as she held him. It had been nine months since she’d last seen either of the men she loved, and this new life… this new life had known neither of them. Would it ever know them? Would it ever see the faces she loved most in this world? 

She didn’t know. She didn’t know anything. Her future was a mystery, and all she was certain of was the fact that if Will never came back, she’d never be able to forgive him.

She sighed. Then, with no one to discuss it with besides Charlotte and Sophie, Tessa grit her teeth and named the baby James, after Jem. And his middle name, William, after his father. 

“James William Gray…” Tessa whispered to the sleeping infant. “You have a lot to live up to with those names. Great as they are, though, there is still a cautionary tale in the story of those _parabatai_.”

She paused, staring down at the teeny life in her arms. “…You hear that?” she breathed. “You’d better not break my heart like they did, little one.”

The infant, ignorant to her pain, only slept on.

And so it was. Tessa, with Charlotte’s help, began to raise little James on her own. She stayed up with him all night, slept while he slept, watched as he grew… and when he was three months old, on the anniversary of Will’s disappearance, she left the baby with Charlotte and went to Blackfriars Bridge and met with Jem. He was silent, speaking hesitantly in her mind until she drew him toward her into a hug, melting the ice that was slowly forming around his heart. They held each other the whole hour long, and he nearly cried when she told him about the baby, and about his name, and about Will’s absence, and how alone she felt. But she wasn’t upset with him, she made sure to remind him—she was so, _so_ glad he was still alive, and that she could have this stolen time with him. She pressed a kiss to his cheek when the hour was up, and then she walked home, alone, back to the Institute and to her baby.

It was then that she began to write to Magnus. Her first letter was stilted, stiff—she didn’t know how to connect with him, if she should bare the aching emptiness in her heart. She had Charlotte, and Sophie, and Cecily, Henry, Gabriel, Gideon, even Bridget and Cyril, but there was still a _hole_ inside her. Was it fair to burden Magnus with this? Would he understand?

 _He_ _’ll come back,_ Magnus said, when she finally managed to write to him the truth. _He_ _’s Will. He always does. He’ll come just when you least expect him._

It didn’t seem that way. Not as one year turned to two, and two to three. Every year, she walked to Blackfriars Bridge all alone, to spend her hour with Jem, and then came back, alone again, to little James. James grew at an astounding rate, playing alongside Charles, Charlotte and Henry’s little boy. Tessa learned to live with the great emptiness inside her, learned to smile again. Three years, four… a decade, a dozen, all the while sending correspondence back and forth to Magnus until the day that Lucie showed up on her doorstep.

Lucie, twelve years old, came with nothing but the simple dress on her back and a letter from Magnus insisting that the Institute take her in. Brown hair, just a touch darker than Tessa’s, and beautiful blue eyes, she seemed familiar in a way that Tessa couldn’t put her finger on. She was an odd child—a shadowhunter with experience throwing knives but not much else, who seemed overwhelmed at the very world itself. But she was the same age as James, and he took it upon himself to teach her, and slowly but surely she transformed from a ward of the Institute to Tessa’s second child. 

Twenty years, thirty, and so many adventures were had. And then, decades down the line, the deaths began to come. They came and then they didn’t stop, Charlotte and Henry passing in their old age, and then Gideon, and though the next generation provided them with grandchildren there was no stopping the call of the vastness beyond, which they all, eventually, fell to. Everyone but Tessa and Bridget, that is. 

For nearly a century and a half, this was Tessa’s life. Living in the London Shadowhunter Institute, slowly becoming grudging friends with Bridget as the two of them outlived everyone they loved, she herself never aging, her face perfectly preserved at the age of twenty-two. She saw death after death, her friends and then James and then her grandchildren. Thankfully, she didn’t have to see the death of both her children—she lost track of Lucie sometime in the 1920s, and though she forever looked for the missing girl just like she looked for Will, she was glad that she’d never have to see her pass.

And look she did. For years, decades, she kept a watchful eye out on the streets, a listening ear tuned to the gossip. Any news of a strange shadowhunter she investigated. For eighty years she watched, and waited, hoping that Will would come home.

It was on the date of Will’s one-hundredth birthday that she finally broke down and accepted that Will… Will was gone. No matter where he went, no matter how long he’d lived… without a miracle or some sort of magical intervention, he was no longer walking this earth. He was only human, after all. He was never going to come back.

Filled with grief, Tessa left London and traveled to Paris to stay with Magnus, where she mourned and grieved a loss that had sat, heavy on her soul, for the last eighty years. Every year she still returned to Blackfriars Bridge, and every year she hacked through the ice of the silence that tried to claim Jem’s heart, and every year she cried for the loss of both the men she loved. One hundred and thirty years… for _one hundred and thirty years_ , she cried.

And then, one year… one year she didn’t. Because in November of 2008, the world decided that she’d suffered enough and gifted her with not one, but _both_ of the men who she’d given her heart to. Her suffering came to an end, and a new era of her life began, and it started, all of it, with the sound of a familiar voice calling her name.


	3. The Storm Breaks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tessa meets up with Jem and Will once more.

“Tessa?”

Her heart stopped.

A great wave of lurching dizziness passed over her, and for a moment she wondered if she were going mad, if after so many years the past and present had blended within her memories until she could no longer tell the difference. For the voice she heard was not the soft, silent voice-within-her-mind of Brother Zachariah. The voice that had echoed in her head once a year for the past one hundred and thirty years.

This was a voice that drew out memories stretched thin by years of recollection, like paper unfolded and refolded too many times. A voice that brought back, like a wave, the memory of another time on this bridge, a night so long ago, everything black and silver and the river rushing away under her feet…

Her heart was pounding so hard, she felt as if it might break through her rib cage. Slowly she turned, away from the balustrade. And stared.

She had but a moment to take him in, head to toe. He stood on the pavement in front of her, smiling shyly, hands in the pockets of a pair of very modern jeans. He wore a blue cotton jumper pushed up to the elbows. Faint white scars decorated his forearms like lacework. She could see the shape of the rune of Quietude, which had been so black and strong against his skin, faded now to a faint imprint of silver.

She had always thought Jem was beautiful. He was no less beautiful to her now. Once he had had silver-white hair and eyes like gray skies. This Jem had raven-black hair, curling slightly in the humid air, and dark brown eyes with glints of gold in the irises. Once his skin had been pale; now it had a flush of color to it. Where his face had been unmarked before he’d become a Silent Brother, there were two dark scars, the first runes of the Brotherhood, standing out starkly and blackly at the arch of each cheekbone. And where the collar of his jumper dipped slightly, she could see the delicate shape of the _parabatai_ rune that had once tied him to Will. That might tie them still, if one imagined souls could be tied even over the divide of death.

His name was on her lips, a question she burned to ask— _if this was permanent, if he was no longer bound to the Silent Brothers anymore_ —but just as she opened her mouth he gasped, his hand flying to his shoulder. “Oh,” he breathed, and stumbled where he stood. 

Tessa was up in an instant, grabbing him about the elbow. “What is it?” she asked, panic threading through her voice. “What’s happening?” If he was dying again, if the _yin fen_ was taking its course through his body, _god_ —she would never survive losing him.

But he was shaking his head, laughter coursing through him, hale and healthy and strong. “It’s… I feel the cord binding me to Will again. It’s strange, as if it’s slightly weaker for having been broken, but…”

“Will?” Tessa asked, her voice pitched high. She was dreaming, she was—there was no way that she had Jem, alive and well, standing before her and talking about Will as if he was also alive and well. There was _no way_.

But Jem only laughed again, lowering his hand from his shoulder to look at the _parabatai_ rune, which had darkened from a stark white to a deep, deep blue that was not quite black. “I feel the cord,” he said again, and then, more urgently, “Have you anything of Will’s?”

Tessa fumbled, patting herself down. She had… her phone. And Jem’s jade pendant. Her bag, with her wallet and some chapstick and a book and a spare sweater… god. When Will had first vanished she’d taken to carrying around the book he’d given her, reading and rereading the inscription he’d written over and over again, but the book was old and delicate now and she didn’t dare carry it with her.

“I… the Institute. They still have a few of his possessions,” she said, taking Jem by the arm. He was grinning like mad as the two of them took off, running toward the Institute hand in hand. “You really think it’s him?” Tessa asked, panting, as they turned a corner together. “Not his ghost?”

“It doesn’t feel like a ghost,” Jem said back, ducking under a tree branch. “Wherever he’s been, whatever he’s done—I think he’s back now.”

They hadn’t spoken about what the two of them were just yet, whether this meant their marriage was back on, but Tessa found that it didn’t even matter—what mattered was their path down the London streets, avoiding cars and pedestrians as they ran, ran, _ran_ toward Will.

The institute came into view a moment later, its spires standing tall against the silhouettes of the buildings all around it. In a few minutes, they would be there, ready to find something of Will’s in order to use Jem’s _parabatai_ location spell _and_ —

Before they even reached the Institute, they heard a familiar voice, coming from dead ahead. “Jem?” it called. “Where are you, you silent bastard?”

Tessa nearly stumbled, another wave of dizzy relief breaking over her. If this was a dream, if this wasn’t real, it was the sweetest dream she’d ever had. “Over here! Follow my voice,” Jem called back, even as Tessa clutched his hand so hard that she was almost afraid she’d break it and his breath came in great swooping gasps. She herself could not speak—it was so much, all at once, her voice disappearing in the wake of the shock of not one but _two_ people seemingly come back from something like death. It was just her, and Jem, and Will’s voice calling and still they sprinted, hand in hand, until, from before them, through the thin crowd of people walking past, came another set of footfalls, echoing toward them, in moments resolving into the form of a young man running toward them with a violin case in one hand.

It was like seeing a ghost. He appeared from the crowd exactly as he was the day he disappeared, down to the smallest detail, to the folds of his coat and the sweep of his hair. He was still in his Victorian finery, coat and vest and collar and shirt, his tie loose around his throat, as if he’d just left Tessa’s room in the year 1878 and ran right out here, into 2008, without a care in the world. As the two parties approached each other Tessa saw a slow, hopeful smile crawling across his face.

And then, with a bone-quaking _thud_ , he and they collided. Will’s arms swung around, the violin in his hand smacking Tessa in the back. Jem and Tessa, in turn, wrapped themselves around him, their interlocked hands pressing into his stomach as he pressed his face between their shoulders.

“I knew it would work,” he said, giddy, and then again, “I _knew_ it!”

“But how did you… how?” Tessa asked, breathless. She was so reluctant to let go, and clearly the other two were as well, but despite how _good_ it felt to have Will in her arms—god, just the _smell_ of him reminded her of home, of days long past—she needed to _understand_.

“Magnus!” he said brightly, as she pulled back, one hand on his shoulder and one hand still holding Jem’s, as if they’d disappear if she let go of either of them completely.

“What do you mean, Magnus?” Jem asked, equally winded. “I thought—Tessa said Magnus didn’t know where you’d gone?”

“He didn’t!” Will said, still grinning away. “Or, well… he knew _where_ I’d be, but not _when_. It was a mystery to both of us!”

“But he knew what happened to you? How did you _get_ here?” Tessa demanded. She wanted to shake him, to just _shake the story out of him already_.

Seeing the urge to start getting violent in her eyes, Will laughed and said, “Okay, okay, from the beginning.”

And so the story came out—that he’d gone to Magnus with a request. A _mad_ request. A request to tweak the portal just a little, so that it wouldn’t send him to a place but rather to a time. A when instead of a where. Magnus had nearly turned him away, but apparently there was something to that idea. Something he could work with. The problem was that it would only work one way, and if they got it wrong—if Will was spat out in the wrong time and Magnus wasn’t around to help him, for instance—he’d be stranded, high and dry and displaced wherever, whenever, he’d landed.

“It was a risk I was willing to take,” Will said seriously. They were now sitting on the front steps of the institute, all three of them, with their hands interlocking. “I knew what I had to give up to come here, but it was a sacrifice I was willing to make.”

“So why did Magnus never tell me this?” Tessa asked.

Will shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe he thought it wouldn’t work. But it did work! And here I am! Tada!”

He held his hands up, spread wide as if to show himself off, though each of them still clutched one of either Jem’s or Tessa’s. A huge smile was plastered over his face. If it weren’t for the tremble of his fingers, Tessa would have thought he’d lost his mind completely.

Tessa and Jem stared, then shared a look between them.

Will’s hands fell, and Tessa felt him squirming in her grip, his smile beginning to falter. “I mean, if you really don’t want me around I can go find Magnus again and we’ll figure something out, but—”

“No!” Jem said, so loud that a pigeon took flight from the building behind them. Will had tried to wriggle free of Jem’s grip but Jem just held on all the tighter, staring into his eyes. “No. Not again. You’re here with us now and you aren’t getting away.”

“Well, in that case.” Will sniffled a little, the smile coming back, this time more sincere. “I’d like to hear the story of the Silent Brother who spoke again.”

So Jem told them the story of Jace and his heavenly fire curing him of his addiction, of the past year that he’d spent out in the world fighting a war he didn’t want to drag Tessa into, of coming to meet her at the bridge, of being alive again. And it was true, he was no longer bound to the brotherhood—he’d never been a fully-fledged Silent Brother, anyway.

“I said Tessa’s name, and then my _parabatai_ rune began to burn, and… and now here we are,” Jem finished.

“Good god,” Will said, with a laugh. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you’re back, but that sounds like a terrible year, Jem.”

“It was,” Jem admitted, a smile curving his lips.

Will snorted, then turned to Tessa, his blue eyes so wide. “What about you, Tess? What did I miss?”

And here Tessa felt her heart jolt. In all the excitement with Will and Jem and everything else, she’d nearly forgotten that there were a hundred and thirty years where she was desperately, desperately alone. She swallowed, willing herself not to cry, not after all this time. And then she raised her head and said, “It’s been over a hundred years, Will. A lot has happened.”

“I know I wasn’t around to lighten your life but surely it wasn’t all that bad,” Will said.

Tessa remembered James’s face, remembered watching him die, and grit her teeth, hard, against the memories. “Will…” she said.

“What? What did I miss?” he asked.

She let go of his hand, finally, and reached for the locket hanging at her throat. She pulled it free of the jade pendant still hanging ‘round her neck, unclasping it and handing it over to Will so that he would understand. “There, on the left,” she said. “Is James William Gray. Our son. He was born in August 1879. And on the right, Lucie Gray, a ward of the institute who became my daughter.”

Will, who had been glancing between her and the locket, looked down at the photographs with his mouth open in an O. “I…”

“Weren’t there,” Tessa finished for him, as kindly as she could. “I was pregnant when you went missing. The angel, Ithuriel, saved the life of me… and the baby inside me.”

“Oh, Tessa…” Will breathed. His fist closed over the locket, holding it until it bit into his skin. “I… if you had told me that, I never would have…”

“I know,” Tessa said. “But that’s why I didn’t. I didn’t want to tether you to me when you so clearly needed to be somewhere else.”

“But I left you—god, I can’t believe I didn’t realize. Unwed, and with a baby on the way…”

Tessa gently pried his hand open, taking her locket back. “I watched him grow, and at every turn, he looked more and more like you,” she said. “Especially as he hit his teen years. It was incredible, how much he looked like you.” She sighed. “But then he hit eighteen, and then nineteen, and I no longer had a comparison to make. He grew older and older and I did my best for him, for both of them, but… they had no father. They both died without ever having known you.”

Tessa blinked and found tears in her eyes. She had hardly reached up to brush them away when Will was taking her hand in his. He leaned forward, wrapping his arms around her. She never realized how much she’d missed the smell of him—that familiar, just-Will smell, now tinged with drying rainwater from a day over a century past. She didn’t enjoy telling him about her children, their children—she didn’t enjoy breaking his heart. But he wasn’t there, and James lived and died without him. He missed out on raising his child.

“I’m so sorry,” he said now, pressing a hand to the back of her neck to hold her to him. “I’m so—so sorry. You were expecting a baby and I just _left_ you like that—”

Tessa sniffed, smiling a little through the tears at Jem, who, at their side, had placed a hand on both of their backs. “It’s all right, Will. You’re here now.”

He groaned. “Yes, but at what cost? God, I can’t imagine the Clave was kind to you—an unwed warlock with a baby on the way, all alone in the world.”

“It turned out all right,” Tessa said. “I had Charlotte and Henry and Sophie and all the others. I even brought the kids to see your parents.”

“You met my mum and dad?” Will asked, pulling back, his eyes wide.

Tessa nodded. “Cecily convinced me to go with her when she went to introduce Gabriel. I had James with me the first time, and later on I brought Lucie, as well.”

Will blinked, his eyes wistful. But he no longer had that far, far away look that he’d had the last time she saw him. He was sad, yes… horrified at the fact that he accidentally left her alone, unwed, with a baby on the way… but he was no longer yearning for something beyond his grasp. Even though he’d miss his sister and his parents and Charlotte and Henry and all the rest, he wasn’t being torn apart by his yearning any longer.

“I’m so glad you got to meet them,” he said now, smiling. “You’ll have to show me their graves so I can visit a little, too.”

Tessa sobbed through her smile, wiping at her eyes. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, we’ve got a lot of graves to go to. But first, I… I want to know what to do with the two of you?”

Both Will and Jem blinked, turning to look at one another. “Do with us?” Jem asked.

Tessa nodded. “I fell in love with both of you over a century ago, and I’m not ready to let either of you go. I know this may come as something of a surprise, but I’ve read a lot of books and—no laughing!—and I’ve come across quite a few that talk about having… multiple partners.”

“What, like the Sheiks in Saudi Arabia? Ten thousand wives?” Will asked.

Tessa laughed, the last of her tears drying up. “Yes, sort of like that. It’s called polyamory now. So I suppose, what I’m asking is… would you both give me a shot?”

Jem and Will shared another look, one that made Tessa want to squirm where she sat. But she’d said her piece, and she’d laid down her cards—it was up to them, now, to accept or decline her invitation.

Jem was the first to speak, clearing his throat gently. “I see no reason not to try this. I was coming to ask you to go out with me, so… this works out in my favor, actually.” He laughed a little, and Tessa took his hand again, squeezing it tight. Then she turned to Will.

“Ah,” he said. He bit his lip for just a moment, and she thought, for an instant, that he was going to back out. Then, right before her eyes, his face split into a _fantastic_ grin. “What the hell—I’m in the future! Why not try out this polyamory thing?” he said.

Tessa grinned back, taking his hand, as well. And so it was decided, the three of them would tentatively start anew in the year 2008, all together once again. Tessa almost couldn’t believe it, even as she walked them down the street, one on either side of her. It blew her mind once again as they spent an hour at the mall buying some new clothes for Will as he stared around himself in amazement. And then again, as she led them into her very small hotel room after buying some take-out to share. 

With a laugh, Tessa opened the hotel room’s door with her key card, gesturing to the small twin bed. “I wasn’t expecting to come back with company,” she said. She wasn’t expecting company, let alone the _two great loves of her life, who she thought were lost in two very different ways_ , she didn’t say. They were all tired after the emotional upheaval of the day, so they ate quickly and prepared for bed and laid down altogether, with Tessa in the middle once again. She laid on her side, facing Will, with Jem at her back, and at some point in the night, she woke up and felt Jem and Will’s hands locked over her body, holding tight to each other. 

She sighed, relaxing into her pillow. It felt right. It felt as if the two of them were holding her together. As if, for the first time in a hundred and thirty years, she was once again whole. As if she’d never want for anything ever again. As if she was _home_.

She closed her eyes with that feeling cradled in her arms and fell back to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHEERS! >:D


End file.
